


Every Word That's In Between Is Just A Waste Of Breath

by KaossBells



Series: 'Cause London Is Drowning [2]
Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: 1980s, Billy's a punk kid, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Childhood, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Introspection, Protective Siblings, Sam Butcher is an aresehole, Sam Butcher's A+ parenting, Strong Language, Underage Drug Use, trying and failing to write a Cockney accent I'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29366787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaossBells/pseuds/KaossBells
Summary: "Billy had heard it all before, had tried to counter and reason and make sense of it. He’d always come up short, didn’t understand why they were like this."
Series: 'Cause London Is Drowning [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140155
Kudos: 2





	Every Word That's In Between Is Just A Waste Of Breath

**Author's Note:**

> In case you didn't read the tags, **trigger warning** for child abuse in this one.

“Billy! Wait up!”

Billy sighed heavily and rolled his eyes as he kept walking.

“Oi! Butcher!”

He threw a glance over his shoulder as his classmate caught up with him. “Scotty… And what can I do for you?”

“Don’t be an arsehole,” the other boy grinned brightly. “Just wanted to know if you’re still on for tonight?”

“And what’s tonight?” Billy raised his eyebrows at Scott. Had they already talked about this? He honestly didn’t remember making any plans.

“Fucking hell, Billy! Did you really forget? We’re all gonna meet up at the scrap yard. To celebrate half-term?”

“Ah! … No, I don’t recall that particular conversation.” He shrugged, only half looking at his mate.

“Seriously?” The other boy sounded genuinely disappointed. “Everyone’s gonna be there. Even Catrin.”

“Who the fuck’s Catrin?” Billy was quickly getting tired of this exchange and so he fumbled around his pockets to find a fag.

Scott chortled in disbelief and it took him a few moments to calm down again. “Catrin? The Welsh girl? She’s been at our school for, like, a year now. You snogged her senseless that one time?”

“Oh.” Billy nodded, snapping his fingers, pretending he remembered. “The blonde?”

“She’s a brunette,” Scott deadpanned.

“Well, you should’ve been more specific, then.” He simply shrugged again.

For the life of him Scott couldn’t think of a good comeback, so they walked in silence for a couple of minutes. Billy had finally managed to find himself a fag that, by the looks of it, had been in his pocket for quite some time. He quickly lit it and took a satisfying drag.

“So… you in or what?”

“Maybe, yeah. But I gotta do somethin’ before that.”

They came to a stop at a street corner. Billy looked over at his family’s house and braced himself. Meanwhile Scott was raiding his jeans’ pockets for something and suddenly slipped a few notes into Billy’s hand. Billy furrowed his brows in confusion, looking down at the money.

“What’s this?”

“Well, I was hoping you could bring some… y’know?”

“Ah… Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Great,” Scott grinned crookedly and rubbed his hands. “See you tonight, Butch.”

“Fuck off, Scott. I told ya not to call me that,” Billy grunted lowly and gave the other boy an angry glare.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” He raised his hands in surrender, his grin instantly dying. “Then… I’ll see ya.”

Without another word, Billy turned around and walked away, shoving the notes deep into the pockets of his jeans. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to go to the scrap yard, but considering the alternative, he’d probably do it. There was no way he’d spend the evening at home, not without Lenny.

* * *

“Mum?” Billy called out as he closed the front door behind him and put his keys back into his pocket. “Mum, you home? I dropped Lenny off at the Corbyns’. Should’ve seen him, he’s so excited! But it’s already six, we should get goin’. Judy’s waiting.”

“William!”

The sound erupted through the house like a bombshell, leaving only debris in its wake. Suddenly Billy’s heart was in his throat and his whole body had gone cold in less than a second. This was not going as planned _at all_. He felt his hands starting to shake with fear and anger.

“William!”

Sam Butcher stepped through the living room door into the hallway, his eyes narrowed and his lips set in a thin line. Billy returned his hard glare in earnest, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“Where’s mum?” he finally asked in a carefully neutral tone.

“Seems like ya already know, don’t it? Judy’s, for all I know,” his father spat back. “Now, who’re the Corbyns, I gotta wonder. Where the hell’s Lenny?”

Billy took a deep breath as his father slowly took a step closer towards him. He considered lying, but what would’ve been the point of that? Sooner or later he’d figure out Lenny wasn’t coming back until school started again. But _Billy_ would have to.

“He’s gone to Brighton with a classmate’s family for half-term,” he finally stated, not moving a single muscle. “I dropped him off an hour ago.”

“Oh, so you think you’re making decisions for this fuckin’ family now? You think you get to say Lenny’s allowed to go off with strangers? Ship ya mother off to Judy? You really think ya have any word in anythin’?”

“Well, Lenny’s on his way to the coast and mum’s not here. Seems like I _had_ a word, don’t it?”

“Boy,” Butcher Senior growled and only came to a stop when he stood nose to nose with his eldest son. He started pushing his index finger into Billy’s chest tauntingly. Billy smelled the whiskey on his father’s breath as it hit his face. It took everything he had not to back away. “You seem to have misunderstood something here. _This. Is. My. House._ ”

Every word was emphasised with another painful stab to his chest. There was no reply to anything his father said. _Nothing_. Billy had heard it all before, had tried to counter and reason and make sense of it. He’d always come up short, didn’t understand why they were like this. Anger was coiling up his guts into a tight knot and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check. It didn’t take long until he tasted blood.

“You still haven’t learnt the meaning of the word ‘respect’? And here I was thinkin’ I’d taught ya better than that,” Sam Butcher sneered. “Seems like I didn’t manage to make it stick.”

With those words he took a swing and landed a punch to the side of Billy’s head with his bare fist. The shock was written all over the teen’s face as his legs gave out and he fell to the floor. Not that he hadn’t expected something like this, it wasn’t the first time by far. It hadn’t been enough to knock him out, but he could still feel how one of his teeth had gotten loose and the taste of blood was taking over all of his senses.

“Every time I think you’re finally becoming a man, you do this. Just a sissy like ya brother,” his father mocked and started to turn away from him.

“You power trippin’ bastard,” Billy ground out as he managed to get back to his feet, blood dripping from his mouth. “You’re just a deadbeat with an alcohol addiction, a dead-end job, and a wife and son who’re scared ya gonna kill ‘em. That’s all ya got, cunt.”

A low, dangerous growl was building in Sam Butcher’s chest as he slowly turned back around. Their eyes met again and for one second they were both sure only one of them would leave this place alive. Before his father could take another swing at him, Billy had already thrown a punch at his stomach. The older man’s knees buckled and he sank to the floor.

With a rasping breath he looked up at his son, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips. “You’re nothin’, Billy. Didn’t even mention yourself in that list, did ya? You’re a useless piece of shit and you know it. Just like me.”

“I’m nothing like you.” Billy replied bitterly and spat blood at the ground. “Nothin’!”

He turned on his heel, suddenly wanting nothing more than to walk. Walk away from this situation, this house, this man, and the urge to just keep punching.

“I wouldn’t come back here tonight if I were you,” his father barked after him, still on the ground.

Billy didn’t answer. He just slammed the door shut behind himself. Then he started to run. He didn’t know where or for how long. He just kept running until his lungs couldn’t take it anymore and his legs gave out.

* * *

“Shit, pal, what happened to you?” The twenty-something chuckled slightly in his posh, upper-class accent as he looked at the teen before him. “From the looks of it you’ve had a run in with a bus.”

“None of your fucking business, Andy,” Billy grumbled and pushed past him through the door.

“I’m fine with that,” the other man replied as he followed his visitor into the run-down flat. “But you cannot show up here looking like that. I really don’t want to get caught selling to minors.”

“Ya want to make money or what?”

Billy groaned a little as he slumped down on the dingy sofa in what one might call a living room. As always, all curtains were drawn shut and the air smelled of unwashed clothes, old curry and pot.

“Butcher,” Andy sighed and sat down in an armchair on the other side of the coffee table. “Obviously I want to make money. But with you I’m not sure the benefits really outweigh the risks. See, the odd baggie you buy from me doesn’t get me through a single day.”

“Guess I could always report ya,” Billy smiled mirthlessly at the falling face of his host.

“Shit, you drive a hard bargain, kid,” Andy conceded defeat after a short pause. “But it’ll cost you. Thirty percent for the risk I’m taking with you.”

“Ten,” the teen immediately shot back with a hard stare.

“Twenty-five,” Andy offered in return.

“Fifteen. Last offer. Or I’m off to the coppers. Your decision.” Billy crossed his arms over his chest triumphantly.

“Doesn’t look like I have a choice, then,” the young man replied and lit himself a fag, puffing smoke into the air between them.

“You throw in some pain killers and we have a deal.”

“That bad, huh? Got some codeine laying around, actually. And because I’m a good businessman and friend, you can have it for free.” Billy saw some concern slip into the other man’s look towards him and immediately narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t need ya charity, arsehole.”

“Jesus Christ, Butcher! Take them or leave them, for all I care. Just wanted to be nice.” Andy produced a pill bottle from a nearby drawer and put it on the table between them. “And clean yourself up before you leave, for fuck sake.”

Billy rolled his eyes at him, but still took the bottle and popped the cap open. Quickly he swallowed one of the pills. He looked to the door by the small kitchen, then back at Andy.

“How ‘bout I hop into the bathroom and you get the merchandise ready?”

Andy nodded and put his cigarette out in the ashtray. “Sounds good.”

Billy got up, groaning again. His side was still hurting from the fall because he’d unfortunately landed directly on his keychain. Andy threw him another concerned glance, but hastily averted his eyes as Billy caught him. They weren’t friends, so Billy didn’t give a shit about his opinion.

Once he’d closed the door, Billy went over to the mirror to take inventory of his visible injuries.

“Fuck,” he murmured, taking a ragged breath as he looked at his face.

There was a big, dark bruise stretching from his right cheekbone down to his jaw. Billy gingerly touched it with two fingers and instantly flinched. It had already begun swelling and from the looks of it, it would still get a lot worse. His lower lip was also busted and had started bleeding again. Then he opened his mouth, already dreading to see what had happened to that loose tooth. Luckily, it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared, though. He nudged it with his tongue, but apparently it was intact and not loose enough to fall out. _Thank fuck for small mercies_.

With a deep sigh he turned on the tap and splashed some cold water into his face. It felt really good and so he started washing up in earnest. When all the blood was gone and he’d dried his face again, Billy pulled out the small first aid kit he knew was under the sink. He proceeded to dab disinfectant on his wounds almost expertly. Seeing as there wasn’t a whole lot he could do to cover them up, he resigned himself to the fact that he’d have to let them air-dry.

Finally, Billy took a step back, carefully removed his jacket and lifted up his shirt to reveal a huge, angry bruise on the left side of his torso. The skin stretching over his ribs was already turning purple and he was sure he’d have to deal with that for quite some time. These kinds of injuries he was used to, though. The kind that could easily be covered up. His father must’ve been seriously drunk to have actually lost control enough to aim for his face.

 _Well, there’s a first for everything_ , Billy thought grimly and let his shirt fall back down over his stomach. Then he slipped back into his jacket and returned to the living room. Andy had already prepared a little, plastic zip-lock bag for him. Without a word he took it and handed Andy the money Scott had given him earlier.

“Well,” Andy announced as he stood up. “As always it’s been a pleasure doing business with you. Really hope I won’t see you again too soon.”

“Fuck off,” Billy replied, but without much force behind it.

“You’re a real pain in the arse, you know that? And so impolite.” The young man gave him an ironic grin. “Now, bugger off. Still got stuff to do.”

“Until then.” Billy waved his goodbye and left the flat without another look.

* * *

The sun was already setting when Billy slid through the tear in the fence surrounding the scrap yard. He could already hear music and his classmates laughing and singing along.

Honestly speaking Billy didn’t want to be there. But where else was he supposed to go? Sure, he could’ve gone to his aunt’s place, had some dinner and seen his mother. He could’ve even spent the night there. His mother had left him hanging, though. She’d gone without him, left him alone to face his father’s wrath. Worst thing was, that he didn’t even really blame her for it. He loved her very much, but she was weak. To him she was weak. How could anyone stay with someone like his father? Given the chance, he’d grab Lenny and be out of there in a second. Yet, his mother was too weak to do just that.

“Oh, look who’s gracing us with his presence!” Scott’s voice boomed cheerfully over the noise as Billy slowly walked towards them. They’d made a fire at their usual spot between some rusty, broken-down cars.

“Billy!” a girl squealed happily. She looked very much like she wanted to get up and fling her arms around his neck. The frown on his bruised face kept her in her seat, though. Catrin, wasn’t it?

“Evenin’,” he said as he let himself sink onto the ratty mattress beside Scott.

Immediately someone shoved a bottle of beer into his hands. Scott clapped him on the back jovially and wiggled his eyebrows at him. “Did you bring the weed?”

Wordlessly Billy nodded and pulled the little baggie from the inside pocket of his jacket. He dropped it into Scott’s waiting hand who gave an enthusiastic whoop.

“Are you okay, Billy?” the girl from before asked worriedly. “Your face, it… you’re bleeding.”

“Nothin’ to worry about, love,” Billy replied in perfect nonchalance, giving her a crooked grin. Still, he took the tissue she was offering and dabbed at the small trickle of blood from his busted lip. “Should’ve seen the other guy.”

“Ha ha,” one of his classmates laughed. “Bet he had it coming.”

“Big time,” Billy nodded, fake grin still in place.

“Cheers to that,” the guy – Eddie – announced and raised his bottle. Everyone else followed suit and clinked their bottles over the fire.

Meanwhile, Scott had started to roll the first joint of the night. It didn’t take long until they were passing it around. While taking a long drag, Billy eventually began to relax a little and let the conversation around him wash over him. By then the sun had set completely, but even though the sky was clear the city’s light pollution made it impossible to see any stars.

Sometimes he wasn’t even sure why he came to these things. Maybe it was because Lenny kept insisting that he didn’t _always_ have to hang out with his little brother. Maybe it was also because his mother was worrying so much about him having no friends. He _knew_ it had something to do with the way his father looked at him every time the school called with yet another report about his antisocial behaviour. A small, knowing smile, like he felt confirmed in his opinion of his eldest son. Billy hated that look.

Thing was, these people weren’t his friends. Well, maybe they thought they were and maybe they were the closest he could get to having friends. But friendship was something Billy didn’t know how to handle. He didn’t feel the need to _actually_ talk to them, didn’t want to know how they were, and all in all, he just didn’t really _care_. Sometimes, though… Sometimes being alone with his thoughts just got too much. In those cases, he preferred their presence. He drank and smoked with them, and sometimes even joined in their conversation with a sarcastic comment or a joke. Mostly he just enjoyed not having to think, though.

“Billy? Were you even listening?” A nervous giggle pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up from his bottle.

“No,” he deadpanned when he found the girl from before, Catrin, was looking at him expectantly. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I wanted to know if you’ve got something planned for next Wednesday?” she repeated her question and the blonde girl next to her gave him a wide grin.

Why was it that he didn’t even know most of these people’s names? He should probably know her, right? But Scott just kept bringing new people to their group and there’d been a point in the past where Billy had simply stopped paying attention.

“No, why?” he replied and gave her a crooked, slightly suggestive grin. “You askin’ me out?”

“Oh,” she blushed and smiled shyly. “Well… I wanted to know because it’s your birthday, right?”

“My… oh fuck me, you’re right,” he laughed a little too loudly. The others shared awkward looks at that and Billy quickly composed himself again. “See, I’ve just been really busy. Must’ve forgotten. How nice of ya to remember for me.” He winked at her and she blushed even more, her smile widening at the flirtation.

“Well, we ain’t gonna pass up the opportunity to celebrate another year of Billy Butcher,” Scott grinned and rubbed his hands, obviously already planning a party.

“Ah no, I don’t think so,” Billy quickly waved it off. “I’m not big on birthdays.”

“Seriously?” The blonde girl pouted and gave Catrin a sideways glance. She looked disappointed, too.

Billy sighed and rolled his eyes. In truth he hadn’t forgotten. He just didn’t feel like celebrating. Not without having his brother there. For as long as he could remember birthdays in the Butcher household had always ended in a disaster. In recent years the nicest thing happening on those days was the special breakfast his mother made. And after that… well, they usually went their separate ways. His father liked to spend his birthdays with his mates at some bar. His mother tended to visit Aunt Judy for her birthdays with Lenny. Sometimes Billy went with them. For Lenny’s birthdays Billy always tried to go out of his way to make something special happen. Last year when Lenny had turned thirteen, Billy had managed so get them into a club where one of Lenny’s favourite singers had performed.

Billy’s birthdays… well, he just liked to ignore them altogether. His earliest memory of any birthday was the one they’d spent at the London Zoo. He’d turned three that day and Lenny had still been a wee baby, not more than a few months old. Billy’d been so excited to show his baby brother all the different animals and eat ice cream. He didn’t remember what’d happened exactly, only that his parents had gotten into a fight and Lenny and Billy ended up spending the night at Aunt Judy’s place because ‘mummy had to go see a doctor’. At least that’s what Judy’d told them. Ever since then Billy’d dreaded any Butcher family birthday events.

Lenny had been on the verge of not going with the Corbyns for exactly that reason. He didn’t want to leave his big brother alone for his seventeenth birthday, but Billy’d basically steamrollered him as soon as he’d heard about the offer. He’d just wanted Lenny to have real holidays with nice people and _he didn’t give two fucks about his birthday anyway_. Or so he’d said.

“Oi, mate, what’s going on with you tonight?” Scott had slapped him on the back and was now giving him an odd look. “You seem kinda out of it. Sure you didn’t get a concussion or somethin’?”

“Nah, I’m just fuckin’ knackered. Long day and all that,” Billy replied and shot Scott a warning look as he took a swig of beer. The other boy quickly removed his hand from Billy’s shoulder.

After that Scott managed to stir the conversation into safer territories again, mostly leaving Billy out of it. The boys went on and on about some football match while the blonde girl tried to divert Catrin’s attention from Billy and his brooding. Somehow another joint found its way between Billy’s fingers and every time he finished a drink someone put another one in his hand.

From there Billy’s memories of the night got hazy.

* * *

The floor was cold and damp as Billy ran a hand over the cobblestone. He was sitting on the ground, his back to a brick wall and his breathing still heavy from running. Why had he been running again? Somehow, he couldn’t make himself remember properly. There’d been an argument. He’d gotten into a fight with two of the boys at the scrap yard. Yes… Scott had tried to get between them. Billy looked at his right hand. His knuckles were covered in blood. Was it Scott’s?

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself and let his head fall back against the wall.

He’d definitely had too much to drink. Squinting up at the sky, he tried to conjure more memories. There’d been a moment where he’d been alone with Catrin. They’d kissed and made out on the hood of a car. Yes, he remembered her warm, soft skin under his fingers and how her hand had found the way into his jeans. Why the hell had they stopped? Billy felt like it had something to do with the fact that there was blood trickling from his brow all the way down to his nose. He gingerly put a hand to his face. It came away completely bloody. Shit, his nose felt utterly sore, too. Hopefully it wasn’t broken. Someone must’ve punched him in the face. Again. Maybe Catrin was the sister or girlfriend of one of those boys. Maybe they’d tried to ‘protect her honour’ or some stupid shit like that.

Billy opened his tired eyes again. There was a sinking feeling in his gut when he realised that he had no idea where he was. The alley seemed somewhat familiar, but it was dark and his vision was blurry. He thought it best to just stay put. Maybe catch some sleep and find his way back home in the morning. Yes, that seemed like the reasonable thing to do.

“Oi, peach fuzz! What ya doing down there? Decided to apologise after all?” A loud voice shook him from his stupor and Billy looked up in mild surprise.

“Ah, shit,” he sighed as his eyes landed on a vaguely familiar face. “You again.”

“Could say the same,” the barman grumbled in annoyance. “You look like crap, boy.”

“Thanks,” Billy tried to smile through the blood covering his face.

Before he knew what was happening two strong hands wrapped around his upper arms and pulled him to his feet. It took him a few moments before his eyes focused again. His surroundings just seemed unable to stop spinning.

“What happened to you?” There was a hint of concern in the man’s voice.

“Nothin’,” Billy replied, but his defiance was weak. He was just too damn tired and worn out to put up much of a fight.

“Yeah, I can see that.” The man rolled his eyes. Then he wrapped an arm around Billy’s torso to support him as he carefully guided him to the backdoor of his bar.

“Oi, stop it.” He tried to wiggle out of the man’s hold on him, but quickly resigned himself to being manhandled. “I don’t need ya help.”

“Obviously.” Billy was sure there’d been another eye roll accompanying the comment.

Next thing he knew, he was sitting in a chair and holding a glass of water in his hands. He eyed it suspiciously and looked back up at the barman.

“What, you think I’m gonna poison you? It’s just water, drink up.”

With another look at the liquid Billy did as he was told and finished the whole glass in one go. Meanwhile the man was bustling about the little kitchen, eventually taking the empty glass from Billy and pushing a plate into his hands instead. There was a burger on it. Billy looked up in surprise.

“Why’re you doing this?”

“Well, you look like ya need it. But don’t get too excited, it’s gonna be cold. Closed the kitchen about half an hour ago. It’s just leftovers.”

“I don’t care, smells fucking delicious,” Billy stated without much thought and just started devouring the burger. Thinking about it now he felt starved. “You have any more of this?” he asked around a mouth full.

“I can rustle up something for ya. But first there’s a few things I’d like to know.” The man pulled up another chair and sat down opposite Billy.

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” Billy put down the plate and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Let’s start off simple. What’s your name, lad?”

“And why do you care?”

“Just stop the fucking bullshit and answer the question, will ya?” The man sighed and gave him an exasperated look.

“Butcher. Name’s Butcher.”

“Butcher, eh? Strong name.”

“Billy… Butcher.”

“Okay, Billy Butcher. Where’d ya get those?” He gestured in the general direction of his face and Billy instinctively ran a hand over his swollen cheek bone.

“Had a slight tiff with some mates.”

“Doesn’t look like a tiff to me, son.”

Billy narrowed his eyes and ground his teeth in annoyance. “I’m not ya son.”

There was another deep sigh and the man braced his elbows on his knees. “Fair enough, _Billy_. My name’s Oliver. Anyone I can call to pick you up?”

“Pick me up?” Billy actually laughed at that. It took him a few moments to compose himself again, wiping away a stray tear. “No. No, there’s no one to ‘pick me up’.” He airquoted, regretting that move immediately, and gave Oliver a hard look.

The man raised his eyebrows at that, obvious concern slipping into his features. But then loud complaints started to arise from inside the bar and Oliver threw an annoyed glance over his shoulder.

“I’ve got to take care of some customers. You should get yourself cleaned up. There’s soap and towels at the sink. I’ll whip up some more food when I get back. And don’t even think about running off.”

“Yes, sir!” Billy saluted with a sarcastic smirk.

Oliver got up, throwing Billy another look, obviously not comfortable with idea of leaving the boy alone even just for a second. But Billy had gotten up, too, and was already making his way towards the sink. With yet another sigh, the man went over to the door and left the room to do his actual job.

The second time that day, Billy started to wash blood from his face. He watched as the rusty rivulets of water went down the drain in a swirl. It was almost hypnotic. Just as he started to dab himself dry with a napkin Oliver returned and seemed almost relieved to find him still there.

“See, you already look better. Let me have a look at your face, boy. Maybe I can stitch you up.” He stepped closer and Billy almost jumped at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder.

“Stitch me up? What, you’re a doctor now?”

“I was in the Royal Navy, lad. I think I can handle a few cuts and bruises.”

“No. Just give me some disinfectant. I’ll do the rest. This ain’t my first rodeo.”

“Oh? Tough guy, I get it.”

Oliver rummaged through a few drawers and reluctantly handed him some cotton balls and a bottle of iodine. While Billy started to work on his face, sometimes hissing and flinching at the sting, the other man prepared some more food.

“So…” The teen eventually tossed the used cotton balls into a bin and locked his eyes on the barman’s back. “Why do you even care? Why go through all this trouble?”

“What would you’ve done if a beat up, drunk kid showed up at your door step?” Oliver just shrugged. “Guess I’m just an old, soft man.”

“Seems like it,” Billy mumbled quietly. “Thanks anyway.”

“What’s that? I didn’t quite hear you.” The older man smiled crookedly.

“I said thank you. Cunt.”

“Watch your language,” the barman chastised him. “But you’re welcome.”

“You done with that?” Billy pointed to the sandwich Oliver had just prepared for him.

Oliver handed it over and sat back down. “So, seeing as you’re refusing to give straight answers, I’m gonna do some guessing. You’re a real lone wolf sorta guy. Probably having a rough time at home and trouble controlling your anger. Did I get that right?”

“Shut up!” Billy’d jumped up, knocking his chair to the ground and discarding his sandwich. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Ah. Pegged it right on the head from the looks of it.” Oliver wasn’t intimidated by Billy’s sudden show of aggression and leaned back. “Well, takes one to know one.”

“I told ya to shut up, you fuckin’ arsehole!” The teen was fuming, angry tears stinging at the corners of his eyes and his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“Oh, would you just calm down?” The man gave him a pointed look. “You just got that hurt and haunted thing written all over your face. Literally. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, though. You just gotta talk to _someone_.”

“Well, it sure as all ain’t gonna be you.” Billy tried to control his heavy breathing. It took some effort to relax his strung-up limbs again, but he managed.

“There you go.” Oliver smiled again. It was infuriating how calm he was, really. “You know what? It’s late and I really need to close up the bar. There’s a folding bed in the storage room and I’ve got some spare blankets in there, too. How about you have a little lie-down, sleep off the alcohol? I’ll leave the backdoor unlocked, you can leave whenever you want. Just promise you’ll get some rest first. If you’re still here when I get back tomorrow morning, I’ll even make you some breakfast.”

“What?” Billy looked at him, almost as in shock. A good night’s sleep sounded very tempting if he was being honest with himself. But this was too much. He didn’t even know this guy and for the life of him Billy couldn’t understand why he was being so fucking _nice_ to him. “Why?”

“Why am I such a great person? Good question. Best discussed over some hot coffee. Tomorrow morning. If you want.”

“Well… okay. I guess.”

“Please, don’t be too enthusiastic.” Oliver held up his hands in mock defence. “Really. I just want to help. Sometimes good things happen, even if you don’t want to believe it.”

“Alright then.”

“Storage room’s through that door.” The man pointed over to the back of the room. “Loo’s just next door. There’s a bottle of water and some ibuprofen on a shelf next to the bed.”

Billy raised an eyebrow at that.

“I’m running a bar. Ya really think you’re my first drunk overnight guest? Now go before I change my mind.”

Billy just nodded at the other man, hoping to convey some gratitude with the gesture. Then he turned around and made his way to the promised bed. He quickly closed the door behind himself and took a deep breath. What the fuck was happening right now? Was he really going to sleep at this shithole bar? It was weird how easy it had been to accept Oliver’s care. It wasn’t like Billy to just trust a stranger like this. Or anyone, for that matter. But for some reason the man seemed… trustworthy. 

He sat down on the ratty folding bed and kicked off his boots, running a hand over one of the blankets. Only as his eyes started to fall shut on their own volition did he realise how _fucking_ _tired_ he was. He felt like he hadn’t slept in weeks. With a contented yawn he lay down and pulled the blankets over himself.

He had a bed to sleep in. He hadn’t had to go back home and face his father. Yet. His stomach had stopped growling from furious hunger and he was slowly warming up. At some point the world around him had even stopped spinning so aggravatingly. He’d managed to get Lenny away from their fucking home for a whole week. And damn it if that wasn’t something to be happy about. The rest could be dealt with in the morning. Billy curled up on his side, closed his eyes and fell asleep almost instantly.

_Sometimes good things happen, even if you don’t want to believe it._

* * *

**_I_ _t's_** **_the story of your life_ **

**_And the end of it's your death_ **

**_And every word that's in between_ **

**_Is just a waste of breath_ **

_Waste of Breath_ by Subhumans (1984)

**Author's Note:**

> This came out longer than initially intended. By _a lot_. 
> 
> Thanks again to [NoForkingClue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoForkingClue/pseuds/NoForkingClue) for being my test reader! All apologies for my weak attempt at writing a Cockney accent still apply. 
> 
> Again, unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.


End file.
